


Inksolation 5

by notjustmom



Series: Inksolation [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25646878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: A month of Johnlock, prompts from bluebellofbakerstreet
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Inksolation [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810603
Comments: 366
Kudos: 77





	1. Agonizing

It was the most agonizing sixty seconds of his life. John tried to memorize the way Sherlock’s eyes slowly went from golden-green to nearly ice blue and back again; how he drew in a breath sharply, then held it for a moment before blowing it out again and struggled to find words. If you could call them words.

“Uhm. Hmm. You mean, that is - you are asking if -”

“Yes. I am.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I am who I am, and I am not certain you understand -”

“Yes, I know exactly what I am getting myself into.” 

“Very well, then yes, yes, of course, I will marry you, John Watson.”


	2. Angry

John had never seen Sherlock truly angry before that night. “I’m fine, Sherlock, it’s just a scratch -”

Sherlock turned to look at the assailant, who made the error of laughing at that moment. John shivered at how Sherlock’s face tightened and even in the shadows, he could see his usually pale face flush red, and he laid his hand on his arm. “Sherlock. Don’t. He’s not worth it. Just stay with me?”

He relaxed against the wall as Sherlock blew out an uneasy breath, but didn’t move from his side. “If you, if he - you do know - John - how very much -”

“Yes, I do, I’ve always known.”

“Have you?” Sherlock whispered, and finally looked into his eyes. “You won’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, promise.”


	3. Affectionate

They were rarely openly affectionate with each other in public, and never on a crime scene until one dark and stormy Tuesday night. A night that Sherlock never spoke of again, but never forgot when he ran his fingers over the scar along John’s ribs. He would always remember removing his scarf and pressing it against the wound until it turned darker, and the moment when John’s eyes flashed open and his trembling hand covered his, forcing him to push harder. He shivered as he closed his eyes and recalled kissing John’s forehead, not caring who saw, even as John managed to whisper, “People will talk.”

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?

“Where’d you go?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Course it was.”

“I’m still here, because you saved me.”

“You were hurt because of me.” Sherlock mumbled as he ran his fingers over the scar.

“I was hurt because I didn’t move fast enough. I got him, though, didn’t I? Now go to sleep, hmm?”

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John’s forehead, then settled against John’s shoulder and drifted off to sleep.


	4. Gloomy

John sighed as he shook out his umbrella before knocking on Mrs Hudson’s door. 

“Oh, good, you came, he’s -” she rolled her eyes at the change in the music that screeched in the flat above them. “Been at it all day, hasn’t he? In one of his moods.”

John nodded at her and slowly made his way up the steps, knowing what he would find when he finally stepped across the threshold of their flat. A rather gloomy detective, and a disaster of a flat, in all probability.

Sherlock stopped playing as he closed the door and dropped his umbrella in the stand. “Why are you home?” He asked without turning around.

“Mrs Hudson called me. Worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

John looked around the flat, just as he had left it six hours earlier, there were no noxious fumes hanging in the air, nothing weird in the microwave, or in the fridge. He turned on the kettle then walked over to the still and silent figure by the window. “I know you aren’t yourself today, I knew when I left this morning and you were still in bed, I should have stayed home.”

“Why?” 

“Why?”

“Yes, why? I don’t need a nanny, I’m used to working these things out on my own, been doing just fine.”

“You’re not on your own any longer, I’m not your nanny, I’m your friend.”

“Are you, my friend?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“Yes, of course I am.”

Sherlock finally turned to face him and looked at him curiously. “There is no ‘of course’ about it. If you are my friend as you claim, you’d be the first.”

John blinked at him as the kettle whistled. “Tea?”

“Please.”


	5. Restless

“There will be another case soon, John,” Sherlock muttered from the kitchen without glancing up from whatever intriguing specimen he was currently studying.

John was about to ask what on earth Sherlock was on about when he realized he had read the same page of the book in his hand for the sixth time, and his foot was tapping as it did when he was bored out of his mind. He was getting restless again.

All of his life he had been a bit restless, he took after his father in that way, he supposed. It was why he ended up in Afghanistan after years of training instead of in practice, and the reason he had volunteered for the mission that eventually nearly sent him back home in a box.

“People are nothing if not predictable, we haven’t had a case in over a week, you haven’t been called in to the clinic for the last few days, and there is nothing in the paper of interest - you’ve read that book at least ten times, the last was when you were in hospital, a gift from a fellow soldier - one that didn’t make it back, it’s why you’ve kept it all this time. Oh. I am sorry, John. That last bit -”

John closed the book carefully and put it aside, then slowly uncurled from his chair with a yawn. Impressive as ever, he was getting better at reading between the lines, especially when it came to reading him.

“Curry?” He asked finally as he slipped his shoes on, and took his time to tie them, before he stood and turned to face him.

The non-sequitur made Sherlock glance up uncertainly from the microscope for the first time that afternoon. “Extra naan?”

“Of course, back soon.”

“John?”

John sighed and rolled his eyes at him, before he strode into the kitchen and kissed away the worried crinkle between his eyes. “I should be used to it, to you, by now, some days I forget. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”


	6. Enormous

“Sherlock? Where are you?” John whispered as he stumbled blindly into the room.

“Over here.”

“Where is - oh - damn it, Sherlock, you idiot.” John dropped down next to him, then let out an enormous sigh of relief as he could tell he was not in any mortal danger at the moment. “What were you thinking, exactly? No, never mind, don’t bother, I’m sure I don’t really want to know.”

“I was sure -”

John shook his head as he unwrapped his scarf and pressed it against Sherlock’s side. “You promised. You swore to me you wouldn’t go off on your own again - you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Sorry. Ow, must you?” Sherlock hissed at him and tried to pull away.

“No. Just be still. They are almost here. I’m not going to lose you again, got it?”

Sherlock tried to return the glare but gave up. “I am sorry, John. I’m not good at - this - it’s easier to put myself in harm’s way than risk you. I know I promised -”

“Don’t close your eyes, Sherlock, keep your eyes on me, please?”

“You won’t leave me.”

“I never have before, have I?”

“No, you haven’t. I’ve never truly understood -”

John sighed as he felt tears spring to his eyes, “You truly are an idiot, then, aren’t you?” At the sound of footsteps coming towards them, he leaned in closer and whispered, “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”


	7. Shocking

Afterwards, he wondered why it was shocking to his sensibilities to find John sitting there next to his bed, obviously he had been awakened by -

“You had a bad dream.”

Sherlock blinked at him, then sat up and shook his head. “I don’t - I don’t remember. I don’t usually have dreams.”

“You have to sleep in order to dream.”

“Right. Sorry. For waking you up. I don’t suppose-”

“I can, uhm, read to you, if it would help.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

John shook his head and picked up the book on the bedside table, then snorted as he glanced at the title, “’Plants that Kill?’ No wonder you had a nightmare.”


	8. Selfish

“Have I been selfish?”

“What?” John asked as he lowered the paper he had been reading and squinted at him through his specs.

“All these years, you could have had a family -”

“I have a family.”

“I meant -”

“I know what you meant. You’re the only family I ever wanted. From the moment I saw you standing there in the lab, I never wanted anyone, or anything else.”

Sherlock snorted and pushed his specs back onto his nose, then shook his head at him. “Ridiculous man.”

“Yeah, but you love me any way.” John hummed to himself and went back to reading the paper.

“I do, irrational and illogical as it may be. I do love you. I just don’t understand how you have put up with me all this time.”

John sighed, put down the paper again and removed his specs, then glared at the man he had spent the last twenty years with. “Still, after all this time, you don’t know why I love you?”

Sherlock shook his head at him, and John rolled his eyes. “You are the wisest, most human, and most beautiful human being I have ever had the good fortune to know, and my life began the day I met you. Isn’t that enough?”

“I suppose it will have to do.”

“Git.” John got up from the table and walked over to him, then leaned down and kissed him, before he returned to his seat and resumed reading the paper.


	9. Determined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of Mystrade...

Mycroft looked up from his laptop to find a rather annoyed and determined Detective Inspector standing there.

“I forgot? Time got away from me? I’m an idiot?” 

“You never forget anything, Wikipedia. You always know what time it is, and yes, you are an idiot, and you are wasting my leave time. _Our leave time._ Turn off the laptop, we still have time to catch our train.”

“A train?”

“You told me to plan our holiday, so I did, and if we leave now, we can still make it. But if you’d rather stay here in your dungeon, playing silly buggers -”

Mycroft switched off his laptop, turned off his phone and stashed it in a drawer, then got to his feet. “Apologies. You are quite right.”

“Both phones.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes but bowed in Lestrade’s direction before he added another phone to the drawer before locking it. “Do I get to know where we are going, or must it be a surprise?”

“For once, will you let me have my bit of fun, hmm?” 

“If I must, I suppose, just this once.”


	10. Secret

“Ya know, if you keep looking at him like that, people will definitely talk,” Lestrade muttered, as he and John stood at the edge of the crime scene.

“Like what, exactly?” John asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Sherlock as the detective stalked around the victim.

“I dunno - does ‘e know, I know he’s brilliant about corpses and ash and such stuff, but -?”

Lestrade’s words faded as Sherlock looked up at that moment, and shot John a secret smile, that the DI would have missed if he weren’t paying attention and Sherlock rolled his eyes at them both.

“Ah. I see.” 

“Been about a month,” John mumbled under his breath.

“That long.”

“Yeah.”

“Congrats?”

“Thanks,” John grinned at him, as Sherlock drew off his gloves, and rolled his eyes again before describing the person they should be looking for, down to the cigarette brand they preferred.


	11. Secure

“John?” Sherlock asked of the darkness, not expecting an answer.

“Shh, I’m right here.” John replied quietly as he switched on the light, and looked into Sherlock’s eyes.

Sherlock reached out hesitantly, then closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief as John kissed his fingers one by one, then whispered, “You’re safe, now, go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”


	12. Idle

“Hmmm?” John hadn’t yet decided to open his eyes, or move, as he was still undecided as to whether or not the last two days had been real or not. The last case had ended without a trip to the A & E, but not for lack of trying, and the close call had finally made him ‘fess up’ after they had dragged themselves upstairs and collapsed onto the couch.

“What day is it?” Sherlock mumbled into his shoulder, not even bothering to fuss about repeating his query.

“Dunno.” John answered honestly, then sighed as a kiss was pressed between his shoulder blades, and he felt himself shiver. 

“Cold?”

“No.” John laughed. “How could I be cold with you wrapped around me?”

“John?”

“Hmmm?”

“Not sure what the procedure is.”

“Procedure?” John groaned as he managed to roll over and face Sherlock, as he wondered at how they had idly spent the last couple of days. They had turned off their phones and made sure the door was locked before they had finally fallen into bed together, and had barely moved from it except to shower and get tea and toast as needed. 

“I am uncertain as to what the next step is.”

John grinned at the puzzled look in Sherlock’s eyes, then realized he was quite serious, and cleared his throat. “Well, first, we should probably get cleaned up, and then I’d like to take you to breakfast, and then we can come back here -”

“Can’t we just stay here for a little while longer?”

John nodded and whispered, “Yeah, we could do that, too.”

“Good.”


	13. Generous

“What’s all this, then?” John asked as he caught Sherlock glancing at him nervously. “You’ve been odd -” his voice shuddered to a halt and the newspaper fell from his fingers as Sherlock dropped to one knee in front of him. “Sherlock?”

“I, hmm. I’ve been trying to -” he looked over at the bookcase and shrugged. “As you very well know, I don’t usually have a problem with words, but I’ve been trying to find the right ones over the last couple of weeks, longer to be honest, and none of those books have helped, so I’ll do my best to get this right - hell, I’ve already bollocksed this all up, haven’t I?” He muttered and stared down at the small box in his hand, as if wondering how it got there.

John lifted his chin with a single finger and smiled gently at him, waiting for him to go on.

“Very well. I know I can be temperamental at the best of times, and downright impossible at the worst, but you see through it - you are generous enough to - you’ve been patient and managed to - hell. Thing is, I love you, and as odd as it may seem, it astonished me, and you know not much surprises me, I would very much like to marry you, John Hamish Watson.”

John rolled his eyes at the use of his middle name, but nodded. “Yeah, I’d very much like to marry you too, just keep the middle name off the invitations, yeah?”


	14. Joyful

“We can’t giggle it’s a crime scene.” John tried but failed to smother a joyful snort of laughter as Donovan glared at both of them.

“Sorry, Donovan -” Sherlock grabbed onto John’s hand and shot him a grin as he mumbled, “looks like you’ve got two freaks to deal with from now on.”

She tried to think of something biting to say in return, but then saw the look between them and rolled her eyes before growling out, “Hope you’ll be very happy together. Now get off my crime scene, will ya?”


	15. Timid

Their first kiss was simple, sweet and just slightly timid. As John drew back and licked his lips, he wondered at how the candlelight made Sherlock’s eyes turn silver, or perhaps that was just his mind playing tricks on him.

“Well, then.”

Sherlock nodded then absentmindedly picked up his fork, and began to eat.

“If that’s all I needed to do to get you to eat -”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help from smiling at him.


	16. Small

“Stop.”

“I can’t -” Sherlock muttered as he glared at the wall, then started to pace the room until John blocked his path, with arms crossed, and a most determined look in his eyes. 

“John. I’ve almost got it, I just -” He yawned at that moment, then opened his eyes to see a small smile dance over John’s lips, and knew he was beaten.

“Bed. Now.”

“Only if you come with me.”

“Where else would I be?” John answered quietly, as he offered him his hand.


	17. Pleasant

He blinked against the soft grey light, and froze for a moment until he felt Sherlock’s breath at his ear. Last night hadn’t been just a pleasant dream after all.

“Morning.”

“Uhmhmm.”

“Hungry?”

“No,” John answered quietly. “Just want to stay here for a bit, if you have somewhere else you need to be -”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Sherlock snarked against his shoulder, then breathed out a sigh of relief as John grabbed onto his hand and held it tightly. “Not going anywhere without you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”


	18. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some angst...

There came a moment in his life when he became his protector. He wasn’t ever quite sure when it happened, perhaps it was even before they met - but that wasn’t rational, was it? Fate some would call it, or written in the stars, or some other nonsense. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself, at himself. He knew Sherlock would sneer at the idea, call him an idiot or worse if - when he woke up. 

He looked down at his hands, scrubbed raw, and yet he could see - everything. He hadn’t been fast enough, not nearly quick or smart enough - not much of a protector are you?

“John?” So quiet, so unlike the voice he had grown to know so well, that at first he wasn’t sure he had heard it. “John.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me?”

“No.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” came the slightly annoyed and exhausted voice.

“Sorry.”

“My fault.”

“I should’ve -”

“What?

“I could’ve stopped you.”

“Since when?” Sherlock laughed, then let out a groan, and John shot to his feet and finally met his gaze. “You were there when I needed you.”

“I was almost too late.”

“I’m still here.”

John nodded as he settled back into his chair, and without saying another word, gingerly took the outstretched hand in his.


	19. Healthy

He snorted as he looked at the breakfast that John had just placed in front of him. Eggs, bacon, sausage, tomatoes, toast, beans, etc - the tomatoes were easily the most healthy element of the overloaded plate. 

“What?” John asked as he glanced up from the newspaper.

“I know I need a bit of, what did you call it, ‘feeding up’ but -”

John raised an eyebrow at him and Sherlock blushed at the memory of the wee hours of the morning and without another word, picked up his fork and started to eat.


	20. Adorable

“I’m not.”

John grinned at him and whispered, “Yes, you are. I don’t care what anyone else says, you are definitely -”

“Don’t say it again.”

“Adorable.”

“John. On what planet am I charming -”

“You charmed me into moving in here, didn’t you?”

“Alright. But lovable?”

John rolled his eyes, leaned across the breakfast table to kiss him lightly. then went back to reading his paper. “Deduce that, Mr Consulting Detective.”

For the second time in his life, Sherlock Holmes was left speechless.


	21. Doubtful

He should have spent more time thinking this through. He ought to have made a reservation somewhere, somewhere they had never been before, a place easily forgotten if he said no. But he didn’t want an audience to something so very personal, he’d even waited for a weekend when Mrs Hudson was off visiting her sister, and Mycroft had sent a cryptic text, letting him know he’d be out of the country -

“Sherlock?” John asked quietly and a curious, doubtful look in his eyes made him sink to one knee before he could think another thought.

“I want to ask you something.”

John studied him carefully for a moment then nodded, giving him his full attention.

“To be honest - that day - the day we met?” John nodded again and waited. “You surprised me, and that doesn’t happen to me very often - and then you surprised me again when you showed up here the next day. You see, I didn’t expect - I didn’t think you would actually show up, and then you stayed. I kept thinking one day I would wake up and you would be gone, but you never left. And some time ago, I realised I loved you, and I recently came to the conclusion -” his words trailed off as John grinned that lopsided grin of his and he bit his lip before continuing. “John - will you marry me, please?”

John’s eyes sparkled as he nodded at him once more. “Since you asked so nicely, yes, I would very much like to marry you.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”


	22. Thoughtful

“What’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“For the last three days there have been no body parts in the fridge, or microwave, no shrieking on the violin at three in the morning, and you actually went shopping yesterday. For food. And this morning, you made breakfast?” He looked at the table set for two, and raised a suspicious eyebrow at his flatmate.

“Isn’t that what people do?”

“It may be what some people do. But I’ve lived here - we’ve lived here together for a year now, and -” John bit his lip as Sherlock lowered the newspaper he had been pretending to read, then cleared his throat before going on. “Are you being thoughtful because you’re afraid I’ll leave?”

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. “As always John, you see but you do not observe. It’s not your fault. I’ve been trying to figure out why it is that you stay -”

“So -”

“It’s not an experiment, not really - though you could argue otherwise, as I have been testing hypotheses, and the only conclusion, after much study, far-fetched as it seems to me, is that you actually enjoy my company.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because you’d be the first - the first who willingly spends time with me, without some kind of recompense, or familial obligation. You are truly the first friend I’ve ever had, and to be honest, I still don’t understand what it is I have done to deserve your friendship, so I thought I’d try acting like an ‘normal’ person, and see how it felt.”

John shook his head at him, and asked quietly, “How does it feel, then, to act ‘normal’ for so long?”

“Honestly?”

“Please.”

“Honestly, it’s been quite exhausting. I don’t know how people do it, the shops and cleaning and actively trying to be nice, it takes quite a bit out of a person.”

John nodded as he made a note of the dark circles under Sherlock’s eyes, then reached across the table and laid his hand lightly over Sherlock’s. “I like you for you - as odd as that may seem, and you don’t have to be nice to me for me to stay.”

“Thank god. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up.” Sherlock breathed out a sigh of relief, then went back to reading the paper.


	23. Cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Chapter 154 of wendymarlowe's Quarantine

He knew he should have been a bit more tactful with the presentation of the reading glasses, but he couldn’t stand watching John squint at his screen for another day when he could do something about it. 

“I’m sorry?”

John glared at him over the top of said glasses, then went back to tapping at his keyboard.

“I thought they might help with the headaches you’ve been having, and besides, I think they are rather cute on you.”

“ _Cute?_ There’s nothing _cute_ about getting older.”

“Is that what you are worried about? Looking older?” He bit his lip, and knew he was making it worse instead of better. He had never been good at this kind of thing, but he truly hadn’t considered that John might be sensitive about his age. “What is the alternative, John?” Hell. “I’m going to stop talking now.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown and headed towards their bedroom, leaving the door open, just in case - in case he hadn’t completely blown it, then flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“Hmm?” Sherlock opened one eye to see John sitting in the chair next to the bed.

“I’m sorry, I overreacted. You’re right. It comes down to a bit of vanity I suppose. Reminded me I’m not the person I used to be. Sometimes I just forget how very lucky I am that I am still here, and here with you.” He reached out and ruffled Sherlock’s hair, and whispered, “I am very lucky that I get to grow older with you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you really think they look good on me?”

“Very distinguished, John, and -”

“Don’t say it.”

“Definitely cute.”


	24. Vigilant

“Sherlock?” The whisper shook him from half-consciousness to full awareness, and he blinked against the darkness of the room.

“I’m here.” His voice sounded wrong, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m here.” Better. He didn’t want John to worry -

“How long?”

“John.”

“Please.”

“A few days,” he answered quietly. Of course John knew he knew exactly how many days, hours and minutes he had been sitting there, save for those moments when he was unavoidably elsewhere. “Five. Five days. Five long and intolerable days,” he mumbled as he took John’s hand in his and lifted it to his cheek. “One hundred and twenty hours, most of them, anyway, after twenty cups of coffee I lost track, and before you ask, Mrs H was here every morning to make sure I ate at least a couple of scones.”

“Light.”

“John.”

“Switch on the light, please?”

Sherlock sighed, but held John’s hand to his face as he reached up and switched on the lamp above the bed with his other hand, then tried to avoid John’s eyes as he blinked against the light.

He waited for John to make some comment about his appearance, to scold him for not going back to Baker Street, but once again, John surprised him by lightly stroking his face with the hand Sherlock still held in his. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t -”

“I know, vigilant as always.” John managed a wry smile, stopping Sherlock’s train of thought. “Please?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him, but leaned in close and kissed him lightly, then whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“My own fault.”

“John.”

John gave him a look, then shifted until there was just enough room for Sherlock to fit his lanky form and without a word, Sherlock crawled onto the terrible mattress and let out a muffled sob as John settled against him.

“Don’t.” John hissed as Mycroft appeared at his bedside. “Just let him sleep.”

For once, Mycroft disappeared as quickly and as quietly as he had appeared without argument or comment of any kind, and John let out a sigh of relief before drifting off to sleep again.


	25. Wet

“Sherlock?” John looked up from his laptop to see a very wet and shivering consulting detective, and even though he was still slightly annoyed about whatever he had been annoyed about earlier that day, he turned away from the blank screen he had been staring at for the last six hours and walked towards him.

“Sorry.” Sherlock managed to mumble between clenched teeth.

John rolled his eyes at him, but didn’t say a word as he pulled the ruined Belstaff from him as gently as he could, then carefully went to his knees and removed his waterlogged shoes.

“I -” Sherlock began, then stopped as John glanced up at him with the look in his eyes that he knew all too well. He sighed as he helped John to stand, and pulled him into his arms. “Shower?”

He felt John nod against his shoulder and knew he had been forgiven yet again.


	26. Ridiculous

It was a ridiculous notion from the very beginning, preposterous.

And yet.

There he was, waiting for him in front of 221B.

“Go on then, Sherl’, don’t keep ‘im waitin’,” muttered his cabbie who gave him a wink as Sherlock tossed a few quid at him before launching himself out of the cab.

John turned then, and grinned shyly at him, before offering him his hand. “Mr. Holmes.”

“Mr. Holmes is my brother, the less we speak of him the better, it’s just Sherlock.”

John nodded and studied his hand for a long moment before letting it go then looked up into his eyes. “What is it?”

Sherlock found himself unaccountably blushing, caught off guard for once. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

“That makes two of us.” He smiled then, and Sherlock knew his life would never be the same.


	27. Courageous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of us who deal with the black dog, some days, the bravest thing we can do is get out of bed...

“... the kindest word for stupidity...” Isn’t that what Mycroft had said, or something like that, how many years ago was that now, he wondered to himself. He stood back and watched as Sherlock knelt next to their newest case, then glanced up and met John’s eyes and offered him the first half smile he had seen in days. He saw the exhaustion etched in his face, but at least there was a new puzzle for him to focus on, something his mind could be distracted with for at least a few hours. 

He wondered at the misuse of the word courageous - yes, he had witnessed some heroic acts on the battlefield, but as Sherlock slowly stretched up to his full height, and gave his usual monologue as to the what, and the possible hows and whys - there were days when the most courageous act is simply getting out of bed, dressing and leaving the house. He was still lost in his thoughts when Sherlock appeared at his side, slipped his hand into his and murmured, “Home, John.”


	28. Fluffy

“Power’s out.”

“Yup.”

“Phones are dead.”

“Uhmhmm.”

“No case on.”

“Not a one.”

“No reason at all to get out of bed.”

John rolled over, ruffled Sherlock’s unruly curls and murmured, “Can’t think of a single one.”


	29. Delicious

“What is it?” John opened the pot and peered dubiously at the contents. After a long, essentially stupid day, the last thing he expected to find when he arrived home was a spotless kitchen and something on the stove that actually smelled delicious.

“I don’t have a name for it, precisely.”

“No recipe, then.”

Sherlock shook his head and bit his lip as John got a spoon from the drawer, cautiously dipped it into the pot and took a taste.

“Well?”

“It’s good.”

“Just good?”

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, it’s brilliant, of course it’s brilliant.” He paused and looked around the flat, which like the kitchen was cleaner than he’d even seen it. He raised a suspicious eyebrow in Sherlock’s direction, then shrugged as he decided he was better off not knowing the motives for the deep clean. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”


	30. Pink

“John?” 

John looked up at Sherlock and nodded. He had needed to get out of the flat, needed some time to try to think things through - he hadn’t expected - no, that wasn’t quite true was it? He patted the space on the bench next to him and watched as Sherlock settled onto it and pulled the great coat tightly around himself, then waited. There were no deductions, no flurry of words, just silence.

He studied the sky as it brightened to a soft pink and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I, uhm. It’s been a long time - “ He paused and let his shoulders finally drop. “Last night. It wasn’t a mistake. This - whatever we are - isn’t a mistake, I should have left you a note, or something, I needed to - thing is - I’ve never stayed, before, I always made sure I could leave, after, you know. But with you - with _us,_ it’s diff’rent, isn’t it? It is for me, and I needed to try to figure out why that is.”

“Sentiment?” Sherlock answered with an amused lift of an eyebrow.

John turned at the tone of Sherlock’s voice and met his eyes.

“Sentiment, yeah, something like that.” He rubbed at his nose, then leaned against Sherlock, and closed his eyes as he felt an arm drape around his shoulder and pull him closer.


	31. Perfect

They weren’t perfect people, but somehow they were perfect for each other. That may sound trite, perhaps, but in their case, from the very beginning, it was true, whether they realized it or not.

From the moment John saved him from the poisoner whether he needed saving or not, Sherlock knew that at least one person believed he was worth saving for the first time in his life. Not like his brother, who acted, at least in his mind, from familial contractual obligations. But John - John who had known him for just a few hours had taken it upon himself to rescue him from not only from the villain, but from himself.

And Sherlock? Sherlock reminded John that he was more than his experiences on the battlefield, or what he might have been as a surgeon; he was more than what the world chose to see, and from the day they met, he no longer had to walk through life alone.

Does that mean they didn’t drive each other crazy at times? Certainly not. But at the end of a case, or at the close of each day, whatever time that happened to be, they had each other and that was enough.


End file.
